Beckoned by the sounds of Snuff Underground: Machine Forge, eight T-100 model Terminators arrived in the fading gloom. One of a few final fleeting dawns before humanity is eaten by A.I.
Mosey to warmarama. Mosey around to the hill + wall. 11s mirkins run up the hill donkey kicks on the wall and back down.
ICBMs in the air, we stumbled to the glass-strewn fallout shelter. Dry, dark and safe for a Dora. 200 LBCs, 300 squats, 400 monkey humpers. Mostly over the hump, audible to a hand release mirkin rendition singing ‘Let the Bodies Hit the Floor.’ And when I say audible, I mean the volume was LOUD. The walls reverberated with percussive nuclear blasts.
Exiting the shelter it was off to the Arena for the battle against ourselves. A.I. is but a mirror to the grand average of humanity’s messy language and we will not stand it. 11s up the steps, mirkins and V-Ups. Large Language Milquetoast. ChatGPTedious.
A prayer of gratitude: for this fellowship, this fitness and this faith. Carry the fire. SYITG.
